Shades Of Gray
by SeraphLucifer
Summary: A man gets a voice message from his wife about her wreck in Silent Hill, and finds what he didn't even know he was looking for.  Heads up, it probably starts off sounding similar to SH2, but it's considerably different. Rating may also go up later.
1. Chapter 1

Keys slid into the ignition with a familiar grinding sound, of jagged metal against jagged metal. It roared to life easily, and he sat back. He'd feared the old blue Cadillac didn't work, and it was a relief it did. He pulled the seat belt over, buckling it in. He hesitated, hands moving to the pockets of his jeans for a moment. He pulled them out, giving a quick glance over them. A small mp3 player and the earphones, and a folded map, torn from an atlas. He unfolded the map and put it up on the dashboard, and put the earphones in, turning it on.

Sure everything was set, he shifted gears, and put his hand on the wheel, pausing a moment to regard the silver wedding band he wore. It was a constant reminder of what he was going there for; his wife. She had left him a message on his answering machine.

He pulled off the curb, and drove off. Traffic was so-so, and gradually thinned out until he could go a few hours without passing a car. He made no stops, on the way to his destination, not that he saw any, anyway, and soon enough he noticed a thin fog. Gradually, it grew thicker until he couldn't see much more than a few yards ahead.

His headlights, turned onto bright for the fog, barely caught the sign reading _Silent Hill_, though he couldn't make out how close. He drove a little while more, before he turned off the highway, onto Nathan Avenue. He came to a split, and he could faintly make out a sign that read Sandford, before catching sight of a figure walking casually in the mist.

Squinting a bit as he tried to make it out, he stopped the car and rolled the window down. Within a moment, he could see the man fully. He was tall, with platinum blonde hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a dull blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans, all a bit stained but he took little note of it.

"You need a ride, sir?"

The man hadn't acknowledged him before, but as he heard his voice, he looked up. A shocked look crossed his features for a moment, but just as soon it was gone. He shook his head, coming to a stop at the side of the car, looking down to where the other male was peering up at him from the window. "No boy. I'm just walking." He said, though his gaze shifted from him to the ring, lingering on the wedding band. "That's a nice ring."

There was a sense of inferiority as the man stared down at him. He couldn't place it, but he was so glad he had averted his gaze. He looked to his hand as well, pulling it back. "Thank you... that was my wife's, actually."

"And you're wearing it? Interesting marital tradition." This elicited a slight chuckle from the younger of them.

"It's all I have left of her. She told me she came here... trying to find her."

Crossing his arms, the man considered this for a few moments, before he nodded. "I see." Was all he said for a few more minutes. "What's your name? I'm staying at the hotel, way back that way," he gestured back towards the way he'd been walking. "If I see her, I'll tell her you're looking for her."

"Well I'd appreciate that. My name's Neil Gerard." He smiled, moving to offer him a hand. "Thanks...?"

"Victor." The man nodded, unfolding his arms to shake his hand. "Victor McFarlane. Best be on my way now, boy. Still gotta walk all the way back." He smiled a bit.

Neil glanced past him, then looked up at him again. "You sure you don't want a ride?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. You go on, find your wife. I'll be fine." Victor said, waving a hand, gesturing for him to go. He didn't give him a chance to say anything else, turning away from him, and started back the way he'd came. Neil watched him until he was gone, raising an eyebrow slightly. He shrugged it off, glad to no longer have Victor staring down at him. He straightened up in his seat, rolling the window up, and drove off again.

As he drove, he took note of the fact no cars came or went, even as he passed a faded green sign reading _welcome to Silent Hill_ in yellow letters. He figured it once had been brightly colored, and was quite a warm welcoming to tourists and locals alike, by the looks of the design, but those days were gone, and it stood a solemn reminder of what had once been.

Soon enough, he spotted another faded sign reading_ Texxon Gas_. It stood out in the fog, barely, towering over the town like some dark temple. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut, and he pressed the brakes lightly, staring up at it. Something was telling him to turn, to run. To get out, and never come back. But something else was nagging him to stay... his wife's voice, echoing in his mind as he contemplated following his gut feeling and leaving.

"_Had a wreck out near Silent Hill... remember that place? Leave the kids with your brother and come get me. Car's totaled."_

He sighed, staring down towards his lap. She didn't tell him where she'd be at, either. Nevertheless, he decided against leaving and pulled into the Texxon Gas. There were no cars here, either... strange, he hadn't seen any since that fog had first engulfed his vehicle, now that he thought about it.

He put it in park in front of the store, climbed out, and headed up to the sliding glass doors.

Slowly, they slid open and permitted him entrance. He crossed the threshold, and although the sign in the window read open, there wasn't a soul in there. He hesitated, glancing around. It didn't look like anyone had been there in a long time. Did everyone just up and... abandon it? He didn't really understand how that happened to towns.

He located what it was he wanted, a map of the town. There was only one left by the register, and he took it, unfolding it carefully. He found where he was, on the far left side of it, and folded it back, shoving it into his pocket, before he turned away and walked back out.

His hand just touched the handle of his car as he heard something, tilting his head to listen. Was that... waves? That's right. Toluca Lake was just up north from his location. He paused to look in that direction, listening to the faint, yet distinct sound of waves crashing. Now if only there was bright sunshine and the sound of gulls wheeling above in the air, and he could be somewhere so much better.

Rosewater Park was near there, though, he remembered. It was right at the lake, and in walking distance. He checked that his car was locked, though he doubted anyone would materialize out of the fog to break into it. There was nothing in there of value. He checked one last thing; his key was in his pocket.

Nodding to himself, he started back to the road, taking a right, and he walked for a while, near the sidewalk on the far left of the road, until he came to a turn off. A parking lot and a wider sidewalk. He turned down it, continuing until he got to the railing. He got to it, putting his hands on the railing as he stood, staring out through the fog at what little he could see of the shoreline.

He flinched as he heard a low, almost raspy voice behind him.

"You looking for something, boy? Got an awful longing air about you."

He whipped around to see the source of the voice. A tall, dark headed man sitting back on bench just behind him. He was dressed in all black, but his skin was sheet white, and his black eyes were hollow, devoid of emotion. It looked like he hadn't slept in days... but then there was something else, beneath his blank expression. A fear so great one couldn't show it, no matter how much they screamed. A fear that ate you up inside, tearing you apart and killing who you were, and leaving nothing but a shell of what you had once been.

And he had evidently seen things that would break most men down. A war, maybe? No. He got the odd idea it had something to do with the gashes running down the side of the man's face, fresh and still bleeding, and upon closer inspection, he saw the rest of him was covered in blood, some dry and caked on in layers, some still fresh.

"Yes, sir... my wife." Neil answered, regarding him carefully. For a moment, his concern for his wife gave way to the stranger, but... there was a fear of him, as well. Something familiar. What was with these people? He didn't know them. "Are you okay...? Maybe I need to take you to the hospital, my car's not too far from here."

The stranger's black eyes stared at him, his lack of an expression never wavering. He shook his head, disregarding the boy's concern as he went on. "You should get out while you still can. She's not here. Nobody's here." He said, then added with a little consideration. "Nobody but the damned, anyway." He said, leaning forward, and stood up. He swayed forward, and Neil moved forward slightly as if to grab him, but he got his balance and stood straight. He glanced around, before he looked at Neil.

"Go home." Was his final warning, and without giving him the time to further say something, he turned away from him, vanishing into the fog opposite the way Neil had came in. There were a few underlying emotions in his voice, though he wasn't sure what the problem was. There was pain... not physical, but mental, something he thought coincided with his fear, and dread. Like he didn't want to go. So why did he?

He watched him go in questioning silence. He didn't know what he meant, not sure if he wanted to... still. He wanted to now what was so wrong with this town, the fog and lack of people aside. Deciding on a course of action, he started into the fog after him. He went all the way to the other side of the park, but he found nothing, though he noticed at the turn a blood trail seemed to start, and his mind flashed back to the gashes on the man's face. Was he bleeding that badly? It didn't look enough to leave a blood trail on the ground. Not to this extreme, anyway.

If it were actually that bad, though, he decided he couldn't just... leave him wandering around, right? No one would be at the hospital to help, either. Quickly, he followed the blood trail, turning left back onto Nathan Avenue, and it lead him away from the gas station he was parked at.

He passed a few streets within a short period of time, still no sign of the man he'd spoken to, but the blood trail went on. He went by another street, just getting past the corner of it, when he heard the soft crackle of static in his ears. He stopped, realizing he still wore his mp3 player, and moved to remove it from his pocket.

"Come on, what's wrong with you?" He muttered, holding it close to see the screen through the fog. He tried to turn it on and blue letters flashed across the screen; low battery. "Come on, you were full five minutes ago..." If he had wanted to say anymore, he was cut off as the crackle grew louder, and he heard what sounded like something being dragged through the fog. It was heavy, like something dragging across a carpet. He couldn't tell what, though within a few moments he saw movement from the fog.

Hesitating, he shoved the mp3 player away, taking a few cautious steps closer to it. It looked like a man, but clearly not the stranger he'd searched the last few minutes for. It's arms were long and boney, like the rest of it's body seemed to be. The flesh was twisted and marred, and featureless. Neil shuddered slightly, looking at the faceless... thing. He thought about running, but he was curious. Until, at least, it stopped, and he flinched back.

The creature seemed to acknowledge his presence, turning in his direction... and then, with startling speed it came in his direction. His mouth came open in a silent scream but all he could manage was a soft gasp. He staggered back; it crawled forward. It was deceitfully fast. Finally, it came close enough and seized hold of his leg. It's grip was tight, unforgiving, and man, did it hurt.

Neil stumbled in it's grip, lost his balance, and hit the pavement hard. He started to sit up as the creature pulled itself onto it's lap, grabbing blindly at his torso and he already figured out where it was trying to grab.

He took hold of it's shoulders, and with immense effort, he shoved it off, groaning under the strain of removing it from his lap. It rolled once, then twice, and was back on it's stomach, once more crawling to him. He got to his feet faster than he thought he could and turned, taking off around one corner. He could hear it dragging behind him, so quickly and probably just outside his field of vision. He turned down another street, before finding Martin Street, and turned down that. He came to a stop at the end, eyes widening at the sudden realization of where he was.

It was a dead end.

Mostly the back of houses, fences against them but it would offer him no escape. He turned his head, taking the surrounding area in. Garbage cans, trash spilled out from them and their ripped backs... nothing that would help him. And then... then, there was that hiss behind him, and again that same strong grip took hold of his sore ankle. He didn't have the time to struggle as it pulled his foot out from under him, and his other easily went with it.

It was on him again as he cried out, and he felt it's hands finding their way up his back. He squirmed underneath it. It was so heavy, it felt like a chunk of lead. He struggled, spying something behind one of the trash cans, partially obscured in the trash. He dragged himself closer in much the same fashion as the beast on top of him, grunting slightly as it gripped his shoulder. He reached out, but recoiled and gasped as it took hold of his throat. He grabbed it, struggling. It was a futile effort. The beast was too strong to simply pry off.

He released it, moving to pull himself a bit more, one eye squeezed shut and just withstanding the pain on his throat. He reached out again, and seized the object of interest, a rusted metal stake, and pushed, rolling onto his back and even onto the creature. It let out a sound that he might've called a scream, though he hadn't heard something like that before, and it released as he rolled back and scrambled away. He didn't get far, or even to his feet, before it he took hold of both of his legs. He was at least sitting up now, and it pulled back into his lap, finding it's way up his torso, and made for his neck.

It didn't get the chance to close it's hand around his neck again. He swung the stake as hard as he could, the way a baseball player might. It collided with the creatures head, bloodying the end of the stake and causing the creature to lean back, such the way it looked like it was sitting up despite the impossibility of this, in a daze.

There was a chance in the creature's stunned state, and he took it, shoving it over and pinned it down, straddling it's waist. He brought the stake up once. Then twice, and a few more times, spraying blood everywhere as he impaled the creature, writhing and struggling under him, until finally all movement stopped and the static in his ears subsided, before stopping completely.

He huffed, sitting back on the creature and staring down at it, a brief feeling of recognition before his emotions gave way to shock. He got up, staggering back suddenly and dropped the stake. A soft, distressed whine escaped his lips as he struggled to wipe the blood on his hands off, only succeeding in staining his gray shirt, but then his gaze went right back to the thing below him. What was that? It looked human... but it wasn't. Maybe he was just having a nightmare... no. No, that was too real. It hurt too badly.

His ankle. He moved to crouch down, pulling his pants leg up to see where he had been grabbed, twice even, and grimaced lightly. It was already starting to turn black with bruises.

"Blast it... now where do I go..." He muttered, pulling the map out and fumbling with it before he got it unfolded. He laid it on a clear spot on the ground, leaning over it as he checked his location. He had just glimpsed the street name, and used that to find where he was. Somewhere in the middle... he looked across it, locating the hospital. He traced the roads back to it, muttering to himself, before he folded it back up and put it away.

One more glance to the monster, and he turned away, shaking faintly now, and afraid to look at it further. He grabbed the stake that he had been fortunate enough to land by, and picked it up, before he hauled himself up again.

Now with a direction, he turned and walked cautiously to the end of Martin, glancing around for anything in the fog, and listening to his silent mp3 player. He took a left then, walking to the end of Katz Street, until he got to Lindsey and turned left down that as well. Perhaps that man would be in the hospital. The blood trail was going in this direction, as it was placed on the corner of Nathan and Lindsey, though he couldn't be sure. Maybe his wife was there, too? She didn't sound like it, but she did say she had been in a wreck. He could only hope that was where she was waiting.

He continued down it, occasionally coming to places on the side of the road where the static once more came back, as did the dragging noise, but he moved away before he was detected. Finally, he came to the hospital. The blood trail thinned out on the steps and altogether vanished at the top of them. It gave him some hope that they would be here, but very little.

He pushed through the doors and stepped inside, letting them swing shut behind him. The inside looked all too similar to the gas station. Empty, abandoned... untouched for years, maybe even decades. He started to move forward, but stopped as he felt a tremor. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. The lights, long, hanging beams, swayed and flickered above him.

Off in a distance, he never even heard the storm siren begin it's dark song of warning.


	2. Chapter 2

The building shook with such tremendous force that if you had told him the ground had split apart, he would've believed you. He tried to take a step forward, but the intensity of the quake threw him off and he hit the ground hard. He watched with wide eyes as a crack a few inches wide stretched across the white linoleum floors of Brookhaven, and the ground jutted up maybe a foot away from him.

He put his hands on the ground, pushing up as best he could as the shaking continued, the building groaning under the strain as the cracks spread across the floors, up the walls. He could've sworn that he heard the ground give way and crumble at places, and a few support beams within the walls gave way and buckled, causing the roof in that area to sag, and pieces of rubble to fall.

There was one final, metallic groan from behind, as the door frame gave way and caved in, distorting the metal doors. Finally, the quake subsided and he was offered a chance to sit up and look around. There was little lighting left, as most of the light fixtures had broke away from the ceiling and shattered, but a few hung, however loose, and still illuminated the off-white building, flickering erratically.

Deciding he was through squinting into the dark, he turned away to observe the door. "Oh, no, I'm not trapped in here. No, no, no..." He reached out, grabbing the handle in one hand, the metal stake he had picked up when that thing attacked him held close in the other, and tugged. It didn't budge. He tugged again, and another few times, before he gave up and tried to kick the door open a few times. He huffed, tiring and stood back, glaring at it in his frustration.

"I should've stayed back home. Called my wife and told her to hitchhike her way back..." Neil muttered, the frustration apparent in his voice, and he turned away, looking around. The Reception desk was just in front of him, but the windows were dark and cracked. The door beside it sat ajar, the frame splintered from the shaking the building had just endured.

Then he heard it. The sharp, yet distant, crackle of static coming from his mp3 player. Panicked, he quickly crouched down low, behind the slab of concrete that had jutted up beside him only a few moments ago. He looked to his left, and it seemed to grow fainter, before he turned and looked to his right. It grew slightly louder, and he held his breath, listening, squinting into the dark.

He didn't hear the dragging accompanying the creature he'd fought earlier, but there was a soft... clicking? It sounded like a woman wearing a pair of heels, the type of shoe his wife avoided like the plague, save for special events the likes of weddings. It sounded as erratic as the flickering in the light above him, seeming to cease for the split second the light was out and continuing the moment it was back.

He watched from his poorly hidden vantage point, eyes flicking over the darkness as he tried, in vain, to see through it, to find the source of that erratic clicking.

And then, it emerged. A tall, horribly distorted woman. One arm was twisted around oddly, and the other was held up roughly in front of her, and to his dismay, she clutched a rusty scalpel in her hand. She wasn't even standing up straight, and flinched sporadically. The off-white nurses dress had buttons up the middle, none of them in the right hole, giving the whole outfit a disheveled look in combination with the stained hat she wore crookedly on her head.

Her whole face was distorted and featureless, cluing him in on the fact she must've been something like the creature he'd struggled with earlier. Her skin was dark and bruised, but as pallid as if it were dead. What he guessed had once been white leggings were ridden with holes and bloodstains. The stained, tan heels she wore were the most in tact of her outfit.

She came to a stop a few feet away, under one of the few lamps, and froze, as if a statue. She didn't make another move. And for a while, he didn't either. He just stayed their, huddled behind the ledge of concrete, watching her. Watching for movement, for sign of a threat, looking around and beyond her for signs of something more, every time his eyes going back to that rusty scalpel.

When he was sure she wasn't moving anymore, he rose to his feet. He was careful, quiet, as he crept towards the door to the reception desk, hung in the splintered frame as it was. The static in his ears had grown quiet when she stopped, but it was still there, regardless. As he made his way to the door, it held a steady, low level as he moved, causing him to relax a little. The door was right there...

With a startled cry, he stumbled forward, his foot caught on a rise in the linoleum. He dropped the stake, and it clattered to the ground as he hit the door, throwing it open. The static roared to life in his ears. It was almost deafening, and he barely heard the soft gasp over it. He pushed himself up, turning to see the nurse lurch forward. The hand holding the scalpel had drawn back, ready to swing.

Panicking, he grabbed the stake and hauled himself up as she drew near and swung the scalpel around. Reflexes kicked in and he jerked back, missing the worst of her attack but the rusted blade still grazed his cheek, leaving a nice, bloody cut under his eye.

That's it, he decided. This thing wasn't going to grab him and try to suffocate him, like the other one had.

No, it would sooner cut him into little bloody pieces.

He ducked as she swung again, backing into the reception office - though it was more akin to stumbling backwards - and he slammed the door. The room seemed to shake lightly with it, dust falling from broken places in the ceiling. The static lightened up, but it didn't stop, the door banging as her scalpel, and probably her arm as well, made contact with it. He moved, grabbing the file cabinet near the door, and pulled it over with a bang, pushing it against the door, and backed away from it.

He bumped into a desk in the room, feeling his way around it as he moved to the other side of the dimly lit room, not taking his eyes off the door. He moved a hand up to feel how bad the cut was, cringing and withdrawing his fingers, bloody from touching it. He wiped that away on his shirt, before moving to press a hand onto the gash, trying to stop the bleeding. He froze, though, as he caught sight of a small red light on the desk, blinking. He walked around to it, paying no heed to the silence in his ears, and leaned close to identify what it was.

An answering machine?

His hand drew away from the wound on his face, wiping the blood off on his shirt and further staining it, before he reached and pressed play. He jumped a bit as, clearly and without static, came the electronic female voice;

"You have three new messages. Message one."

_"Looking for..."_ It was a man's voice, very formal sounding, but it was hard to make out much through the static filling the messages. _"...Bishop... wanted... car theft... murder. Call us...five, five..."_ The voice faded into the static.

"Message two."

_"Had a wreck... Silent Hill... remember?"_ His breath caught in his throat as he heard it. It was drowning in static, but that voice... his wife. The same message from before, but how...? _"Leave... with your brother... Come get me. Car's totaled."_

"Message three."

_"I was wondering..."_ This voice, another man, was softer than the first, but sounded not too far off from his own. He could barely make it out for the static. _"...What room... McFarlane. ...My brother..."_ The static grew louder, drowning out his voice as well.

McFarlane? His mind flashed back to Victor, the man in blue he'd met walking just before he came into town. He shook his head, glancing back to the roughly blockaded door. It was still, now, and only then did he realize the static had subsided. He started for the door, only to nearly jump out of his skin as something nearby fell to the floor, screaming in fear as he spun and swung the stake.

He nearly fell, as the heavy stake made contact with nothing. He caught himself on the wall, before he turned to find what had startled him. A clipboard. He bent down, picking it up and held it to where he could read it. Something important, that much he could tell, but most of it was illegible, be it from the stains - coffee or water? - or scribbles. There were a few words he could make out. One of them, he didn't see any significance in. Hamilton. The other he could see on that page, though... it did. Gerard. He tilted his head a bit, flipping through the pages to find further information.

Most of the other pages were entirely illegible, except for one, and he couldn't make out what the page was for, but two more names, mentioned on the messages, were mentioned. McFarlane, Bishop... but he couldn't read the first name to either. He looked across to the room numbers, noticing that the number to Bishop's room was ripped out. There was a stain over McFarlane's, it looked almost like it could be a bloodstain. He took a wild guess that it was coffee, though.

"S8..." He read, pausing to look over at a note taped to the side. He tilted it a bit to look at it, leaning closer and squinting in the dim light.

_Patient 124  
Treatment Hours:  
MON-THU - 9:30 AM - 10:30 AM  
FRI-SAT - 12:30 PM - 1:15 PM  
SUN - none scheduled_

He located a pen, moving to scribble S8 on the corner of the note and pulled it off. He folded it, sliding it into his pocket as he placed the clipboard back on the desk. He paused, sighting another paper on the table. He grabbed it, causing it to unfold and fall into multiple pieces. He stared, dumbfounded for a moment, as he tried to discern what it was. Until he figured it out.

"A map! Yes, this is what I need. Where's... S8?" He held the piece in hand out, trying to find it. He found nothing, other than locating the room he was in. Huffing, he folded it and shoved it into his pocket with the map of the town, snatching up the piece that had fallen. He unfolded it, looking it over and his eyes lit up with some relief as he found several numbered rooms, on the third floor, the middle-most being S8; right across from the elevator. Perfect.

But he hesitated, spying the special treatment room on the same floor. He considered the note, making his own mental note to check that out, after he took a look around S8. He folded that piece of as well, sliding it away with the other maps and he turned back to the door. He grabbed the file cabinet, hauling it back up and out of the way.

His finger tips touched the cold knob of the door, resting gently on it as he listened to the silence of his mp3 player. Gulping lightly, he moved to grip it, and carefully pull it open. Slowly, as silent as the ruined doorframe would permit. He got it partially open, listened... no static. He opened it the rest of the way, leaning out. He looked both ways, blinking in confusion.

The hallway was empty. No nurse... nothing. Just debris. He took a tentative step out, then another until he was back in the middle, making sure to watch out for cracks in the floor. He flinched as he heard faint crackling in his right ear. He glanced over, just able to make out the frozen figure of the nurse. Why was she over there...? Why was he wondering? The further from him she was, the better off he would be.

He headed to his left, away from the nurse, and the faint static gave way to silence once more. He kept near the wall, watching the floor as he went, for any more cracks. Several of them lined the floor, some a hairs breadth apart, and others so wide he had to step over them to avoid repeating what had happened earlier.

It didn't take much more before he came to another hallway that went left and right again. He glanced to the left, thinking. The nurse would be in a hallway somewhere down that way. That meant he was going the other way.

That hallway was shorter than the one he'd just went down, and at the end, there were three doors. One on the last wall, and one on either side. Another light hung above him, dim and flickering on occasion, but not quite like the other. He didn't hear any static, at least not yet, but he found himself glancing back in fear of the nurse coming.

He turned back to the doosr, trying them each until he came to the one on the left. It was the only one unlocked, and it came open easily enough. He stepped through, shutting the door behind him. It was darker in here, so he moved with considerably more caution, and relied heavily on sound for signs of danger.

The first door he checked was locked, but he stopped before he could check the other one, looking up to the ceiling. It was hard to see through the poor light, but the whole ceiling ahead of him had collapsed. He could clearly see the bright light on the other side, shining through a large crack between the fallen ceiling and the next door down. He moved closer, peeking through it. He sat the stake down on the ground, and tried to slip through. He couldn't fit much more than half of his torso through, but he could see roughly the other side.

Rubble covered the floor on the other side, with deep cracks stretching the length of the walls. He pulled back out. It was no use trying to squeeze through; he simply couldn't fit. He stepped back, staring at it a moment. He glanced around, then moved, pulling the hospital maps out. He unfolded them, laying them out on the floor in the light, and knelt before them, looking over them to establish just where he was. He checked the door that wasn't blocked by rubble. It read C2. He moved to the second floor map, laying it over the other piece to line the elevator up, and did the same to the third floor map.

He heard the scrambling of claws across the floor before the static registered in his mind. He whirled around, reaching for the stake before he even saw the hyena-like creature that had come up behind him. It visibly tensed, and the odd spines down it's back bristled. It bared those stained, broken teeth, growling a warning. The static grew louder in his ears, but he sat in the crouched position, holding eye contact with this creature, hand resting on the metal stake.

Most of the creatures he'd seen were lacking in detail, however mutilated. But this one, it was different. It's eyes, a pale blue, were glossy and lifeless. It's body, ripped of it's skin at places but at others it still hung from it's body, the pale, ruined flesh bruised. On it's chest, he could see it's rib cage, ripped open. And, from the looks of it, a heart there in the middle, beating so slowly he thought it might stop at any moment. But it never did.

Gradually, it relaxed back, sitting, but never once did it take it's eyes off him. He watched it just as carefully, taking note of the static subsiding. Good, maybe that meant this one wasn't going to try to kill him. Not yet, anyway. He had no desire to fight it.

No. That was wrong. He was terrified of it. More so of this, than he had been of the nurse. He wasn't sure why, but he got the distinct feeling that it would only make matters worse if he engaged in combat with it.

It seemed the feeling was mutual.

Deciding he was safe for now, he moved back a bit, grabbing the maps. He froze as the static grew louder, watching it stand back up. Slowly, he started folding the maps, and put them away. He stood up, and it backed up, growling as the static in his ears rose in intensity.

He glanced around, looking at the options he had. There were two unchecked doors; an unnamed one to his left, and C2 on his right. Holding the stake, he moved to check it. It was unlocked, but stuck. He pushed a bit, doing his best to ignore the static and sounds of the dog walking around him. One last shove, and it came open. He stepped in, giving the room a quick glance for anything important.

There wasn't much. Dust and tiny pieces of rubble littered the place. Papers laid out for doctors were scattered amongst the place. But the bed in the room was a mess. The blankets were twisted and knotted, as if someone had just had a very restless sleep in it. Beside the bed, in the circular trash can, he could see a bundle of red and white. Bandages? Maybe.

The tables were covered in old, empty food containers. Cups, carry-outs... the odd McDonald's bag. His attention was quickly drawn to the ceiling, though. The light was on. Or half of it was, anyway, though dim. And he could see, in the far side, a hole where part of the ceiling had dipped down and given away in the quake. It was just over the bedside table, and he could see a dim light flickering beyond it.

Well, he figured he didn't have anywhere else to go. He glanced back at the creature sitting behind him, watching him intently, before he turned away and climbed onto the bed. He stood, carefully, checking the table was sturdy, and moved onto it. He reached a hand up, grabbing the edge of the hole, and pulled lightly. Dust fell off the edges, but it was otherwise sturdy as well.

The static flared up in his ears, and he flinched, glancing back down to see his stalker standing just past the edge of the bed, bristled and growling softly at him. He shot it a glare, like the one it seemed it was now giving him, and looked back at the hole. He slid the metal stake up through the hole, sitting it back out of the way but not out of reach, and grabbed the edges.

He pulled himself up, with some effort, using his feet and the wall as leverage to haul himself up the rest of the way, rolling onto his back as he made it onto the next floor. From his spot on his back, he glanced around. It didn't look much different than the one he'd came in from, save for a few pieces of medical equipment that was missing. The static had all but silenced, now like a faint whisper in his ear.

Reaching for the stake, he sat up, before he climbed, carefully, to his feet. He dusted his clothes off with one hand, and moved to the door. He grabbed it, turned the knob, and pulled. It wasn't locked. The knob worked perfectly. But it didn't budge. He pulled harder. Still nothing. He sighed and turned away. He paced a moment, thinking. He took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Through the flickering of the dim lights above, something flashed over his face. He flinched back, looking over, and located the mirror on the other side of the room. He tilted his head a bit, getting up, and went to it. He picked it up, looking into it when the light offered the chance. Looking at the cut on his face, the blood running down his cheek, he was reminded of why he came to the hospital to begin with. The man he'd met in Rosewater. He'd come looking for him, to see if he'd been okay. He found himself wondering, still, how he'd taken such damage. He glanced down to the hole in the floor, looking into the room below. He couldn't see the creature that had come up on him in the hallway, but he wondered if something like that might've done it.

He shook his head and looked back at the mirror, sitting the stake down on the table for the time being, and brought a hand up to scratch lightly under it, scraping away the scabs. "This is gonna get infected..." He muttered. There was no reason for him to speak aloud at this point, but hearing something human, even if only himself, was something of a comfort. He pulled the drawer under it out, finding medical gauze. He glanced around; there was a sink over there. He moved to it, grabbing one of the handles and turned it on.

The water poured from it. He recoiled back in surprise, disgust taking over his hopeful expression. The water was brown, muddy-looking. It smelled horrible. He quickly turned the handle back, shutting it off. Sighing, defeated, he sat the mirror and the gauze down next to the sink. He moved to retrieve his weapon, sitting back down on the bed. He held the weapon carefully, looking at the dried blood on the end.

For a while, he didn't move, allowing himself to rest, giving his heart a break from this nightmare. As he calmed down, the terror temporarily subsiding, he gradually grew to notice the throbbing in his ankle. He bent over, rolling his pants leg up. It was worse than it had been before, now a thick black ring around his leg. He flinched just seeing it, but moved to rub it gently in an attempt to ease the pain. It didn't help.

Sighing, he rolled the leg of his pants back down and just leaned on his knees, staring at the floor. He sat for a while, watching the shadows cast across the floor from his legs fade in and out with the flickering light. It took him a little bit to realize that the shadows were more visible, the darker the light above became.


End file.
